Princess of Ashes
by Sariniste
Summary: Winner of 2011 FLOL Tanabata Contest. Will the rain keep Prince Ichigo from finding the woman of his dreams? A fractured IchiHime fairy tale. Warnings: Romance, silly humor, a small dose of angst and a large helping of high-calorie sweetness. AU. Oneshot.


**Princess of Ashes – A Tanabata Tale**

_**A/N: **This story was the WINNER in the fanfic division of the Fifth Annual FLOL Tanabata Festival contest for 2011! Thanks so much to anyone who read, reviewed, or voted for this or any of the other amazing entries in the competition. I am truly honored to be this year's winner!_

**Summary**: A fractured IchiHime fairy tale for the FLOL Tanabata contest. Will the rain keep Prince Ichigo from finding the woman of his dreams?

**Warnings:** Romance, silly humor, a small dose of angst and a large helping of high-calorie sweetness. AU. Twisted bits of Bleach, Tanabata, and Cinderella all mixed together with no guarantee of accuracy, historical or otherwise.

Thanks to **MM08** for catching my slip on Japanese culture, and **le etoile** for beta'ing!

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Bleach, and Cinderella is in the public domain.

(Originally posted 7/5/2011.)

XxXxXxX

_Once upon a time in a small kingdom, there lived a young girl with long auburn hair, gray eyes, and an odd taste in food. She lived with her father, her stepmother, and her two stepsisters in a run-down old mansion that had seen better days. But that was before her father, Lord Inoue, turned to drink and married a woman who cared only for money, status, and clothing. Her older brother, Sora, had been killed by bandits nine years ago and left her without a protector. Ever since then, her stepmother had treated her like a servant and made her do all the household work. Her father was usually too drunk to protest._

_The girl's name was Orihime, but because she often ended up dirty, her ragged clothing covered in soot from the hearth where she did much of her work, her stepsisters taunted her by calling her Hainohime, Princess of Ashes._

XxXxXxX

Orihime knelt on the rough wooden planks, scrubbing the worn kitchen floor with an old rag. A shaft of sunlight came briefly through the small window and illuminated the metal pump handle beside the large sink, and Orihime looked longingly at the bit of blue sky visible through the wavy glass.

How she would have loved to be outside, walking in the pleasant summer sunlight to the market square for more ingredients for the pastries she planned to bake. She sighed. Her stepmother had forbid her to go outside today. She had gotten a black eye from her stepsister's beating yesterday and her stepmother was concerned about her appearance reflecting poorly upon the family name.

"Everyone knows you're clumsy, but not that clumsy," her stepmother had said, eying the spectacular shiner with a frown. "Just make sure you heal up quickly," she scolded, as though it were Orihime's fault she had gotten injured, "and don't provoke your sisters next time."

Orihime sighed again and bent once more to her scrubbing.

The kitchen door banged loudly and her two stepsisters, Loly and Menoly, ran in.

"Hime," shrieked Loly, her face contorted with such fury that her black ponytails were quivering. "Why haven't you finished washing and pressing my clothes? Don't you know I have an important visit with a potential suitor tonight? Plus, there's the ball at the castle for next week's Tanabata festival to get ready for."

Orihime sat back on her heels and brushed a stray hair out of her face with the back of her hand. "Oh, I'm sorry, Loly," she said in her soft voice. "I've been taking care of the kitchen first like Mother said."

Loly's face twisted. "You're so slow, you bitch. Why don't you work faster?" She took a menacing step towards Orihime. "Or I'll make your right eye match your left!" She gave a shrieking laugh and lifted her fists.

Menoly tugged on the back of her sister's dress. "Remember," the blonde said, "we were going to drop by Yammy Hidalgo's place for lunch today. It's getting late."

"Oh." Loly's face fell and she turned to go. She sent a glare over her shoulder in Orihime's direction as she followed Menoly out the door. "Just make sure you get to work on that soon, you lazy bitch!"

Then the door banged and Orihime was left in the quiet kitchen alone once more. She sat back on her heels for a moment to rest, and brushed her hair out of her face with her forearm. The only sound was the slow ticking of the kitchen clock on the hearth.

As she sat there, alone in the silent kitchen, she began daydreaming, retreating into the fantasy life that had been her only escape for so long. In her dream, she was a valiant knight, swinging her sword for the good of the poor and downtrodden, defending tiny children from an evil invader. The kitchen floor forgotten, she stared unseeing at the wall in front of her as her inner vision filled with the tapestry of her dreams.

But today, before she could start the fantasy, another scene, a memory from her own real life, intruded. It had been six years ago, and she had been a small child then who needed defending from an invader. She had barely been twelve years old, had already become scrawny from lack of food in the previous three years of being her stepmother's servant. She had been on her daily trip to the market square when there had been a sudden hue and cry.

"_The enemy is coming! A squadron of them on horseback, coming here into the marketplace! Run for your lives!"_

_People began scattering everywhere._

_She looked up in panic but the basket of food she was carrying was too heavy for her to run very fast with. Slowly, she began dragging her load off to the edge of the square. She didn't dare let go of it or she would be beaten at home for sure._

_As a result, she was the last person left in the square when the men started pouring into it, their horses lathered, shouting harsh words to each other in a guttural language. One of them spotted her and raised a cry, and three of them began galloping toward her._

_Panicked, she redoubled her efforts to get to the narrow alleyway she had been aiming at. She had just shoved the basket of food under a stairway and was about to slide herself underneath as well when a hand wrapped around her arm with a grip like iron._

_Terrified, she looked up at the helmeted, leering figure. He raised his sword and was about to bring it down when suddenly another sword blocked it. Orihime and the invader looked up in equal surprise to find an orange-headed man with a ferocious scowl blocking her attacker's sword._

_She cowered against the wall as the two fought. The orange-haired man made quick work of dispatching the invader and then turned to cut down his two companions. Only when all three of the enemy were lying on the ground did he stop, hardly even breathing hard, and sheathe his sword._

_The young girl gazed up at his shock of orange hair, smooth skin, and even features above a scowling mouth. His warm brown eyes were full of concern even for a small girl dressed like a peasant. He bent down to her, and offered her his hand. She gazed at him with shining eyes, barely able to speak. "Thank you, my lord," she whispered._

_He only scowled more fiercely. "No thanks are necessary. It's my job to protect the kingdom." His voice gentled. "Now you better go home, okay? Go by the back streets. The army has been raised; we'll defend the town." He gestured at the other side of the square where mounted horsemen were already clashing with the invaders._

_She nodded, suddenly struck completely mute as she recognized him. Ichigo Kurosaki, the crown prince of the kingdom. Only sixteen years old, and already the townsfolk were talking about his fighting prowess._

_And now she had witnessed it firsthand. Awed, she tried to say something but her mouth only opened and closed like a fish._

_But he smiled at her. The smile transformed his face, changed it from that of an angry, protective fighter to the face of a kind and loving person. The sort of face that she had rarely seen in her short life._

"_I'm needed, so I have to go," he said. "You can get home okay, right?"_

_She could only nod and he grinned at her once more and then charged off across the square, sword ready._

_She followed his movements with her eyes until she lost him in the press of fighting at the end of the square, and then scurried off home._

Ever since then, she had secretly followed all the gossip about Prince Ichigo, although she would never have admitted it to anyone. Not that it mattered; rumor had it that Prince Ichigo was uninterested in all the court ladies who fluttered and simpered around him.

But she could dream. And in her imagination, unlike the dreams of the court ladies, rather than being his wife, she was a knight every bit as fierce and protective as Prince Ichigo, defending the kingdom. She was the one who watched over the helpless, raising her shining sword to defeat evil. In her dreams, the orange-haired prince noticed her prowess as a fighter one day, and made her his personal guard.

In her most cherished dreams, she stood guard at his door and fought for him. Her fondest hope was that she could protect him, as well as the kingdom he cared so deeply about. She did not want to be like Loly and Menoly, who were constantly scheming how to get into bed with the objects of their affections. Loly in particular had been obsessed with a prince from a neighboring kingdom for quite a while and she was constantly nagging her mother to try to get her invitations to events where the man might show up. When she came home from one of these events she was always full of somewhat bitter talk about everything she had done to throw herself at this man's feet and get him to notice her.

Somehow, nothing ever seemed to come of it, and each year, Loly became even more desperate to get married.

Personally, Orihime thought it was a bit humiliating. It was odd, but she didn't hate Loly, despite the girl's hatred of her. Instead, she felt rather sorry for her. Loly wasn't really high-ranking enough to catch the eye of a prince, and even though marrying into the Inoue family had improved her status, their poverty made her doubly unattractive. It was unlikely the rich and dashing prince from the neighboring kingdom would ever deign to even look at Loly.

As for Orihime, since she knew she was not an appealing marriage prospect, she had decided that rather than beg to be married off, she would simply choose to remain unmarried and would find an alternative means of making her way in the world. She did have some pride still, despite her abysmal situation. The Inoue family had once been highly ranked nobility; they had only recently fallen upon hard times. Sora had often told her stories of her valiant ancestors, stories which only fired her imagination and enthusiasm for her fantasy world.

Orihime touched her hairpins, his last gift to her, her only remembrance of her brother. Her stepmother had sold everything of value from the family heirlooms to buy clothing and fripperies for herself and her daughters, with occasional barrels of beer and spirits for Lord Inoue, to keep him happy and mostly unconscious.

She stood up, went to the sink, and pumped the handle to run water over her rag, rinsing out the dirt. Then she returned to her task, kneeling on the floor once again. She looked at her chapped, rough hands, and her scabbed knees, and sighed softly. No, she did not have the marriage prospects a girl of her background usually had, but she did have plans for getting out of this house. Loly might call her a coward, but that wasn't true. She just didn't like fighting. She was already talking with the woman who ran the best bakery in town. She had started to work for free as an apprenticeship, with the idea that she would learn the baking trade. Noble girls weren't supposed to take up a trade, but to Orihime's mind, working as a baker was far better than being Loly and Menoly's scullery maid.

XxXxXxX

Continuing with her daily chores, Orihime took her dust rag into the sitting room on the main floor. This was the only room in the house with grand furniture left. All of the rest of the beautiful old antiques had been sold long ago.

The girl's eyes went to the far end of the room, where a woven basket stood, filled with many tall bamboo branches. The branches were decorated with many tiny slips of paper representing household members' wishes for the upcoming Tanabata festival. On the seventh day of the seventh month, the bamboo switches would be taken down to the river and set afloat to allow the slips of paper and their wishes to be released into the world.

Orihime checked to see if anyone was around. Then she hurriedly moved to the bamboo basket and knelt beneath it. Her hand crept to the pile of small slips of paper. She selected one, picked up a small piece of charcoal, and began to write her wish. "I wish," she printed carefully, "to become stronger and find a way to make a happier future for myself."

She twisted up the paper and placed it on the twig. She paused for a moment, gazing at the display. Then, with another quick glance around the room to see if she was observed, she picked up another slip of paper. On this one she wrote, "And I wish I could go to the ball."

XxXxXxX

Orihime slept in a tiny garret at the very top of the house. Although the others thought they were punishing her by giving her this room, actually she liked it. The house stood on a slight rise, but the first two stories were blocked by trees. From its tiny window, this room had a wonderful view of the town spread out below her.

She liked to swing open the miniature window, and feel the cool breeze caress her face as she slept. She lay down in the bed, and in a moment she was asleep.

It seemed like only a minute later that the moon had risen and was shining in her window, and she awoke. To her amazement, there were many tiny swirls of light floating in her window. She watched them silently, eyes wide in fascination. Although, she thought, she must surely be dreaming. After a moment, she realized there were six brilliant motes of light moving in an intricate, but regular pattern near the ceiling of her garret. As she watched more closely, she realized they were not merely motes of light, but tiny, winged, human-like creatures.

Her mouth dropped open in astonishment. She had never seen such a thing. Tentatively, she raised a hand… and one of the tiny creatures slowed down, hovered above her hand for a moment, and then slowly touched down into her palm. It stopped moving and looked up at her. It was a tiny blonde creature with a topknot, dressed in a red outfit. She couldn't tell if it was male or female.

It looked to the side and up at one of the other hovering creatures. "She must be aware," it said, head swiveling back to look at her. "She must be aware of our existence."

"It's talking?" gasped Orihime. This was certainly the most vivid fantasy or dream she had had in a long time. Even more real than the little blue men that she imagined came from other planets to talk to her.

The creature's head twisted around to stare at her. Then it bowed in her direction so that its topknot flipped forward over its tiny face. "Nice to meet you, Orihime," it said in a small but very clear voice. "We are the Shun Shun Rikka, come to grant the wishes you wrote last night." It unrolled what looked like a large scroll slung under its arm, and Orihime recognized her printing from the slips of paper she had placed on the bamboo branches.

"Wha—" she said, and then stopped, mouth open. "What are you, flying midgets?"

The creature grinned, topknot bobbing in approval. "Oh, that's a good response! I'm glad." He raised a miniature finger. "But there's one mistake. We're not 'flying midgets.' My name is Shun-o."

The six of them began swirling about her head, faster than she could follow.

"But… who are you?" she asked, puzzled.

A brash male with dark hair and a tiny cloth wrapped around the lower half of his face answered her. "We're your… fairy, uh, godfairies." He scowled. "I'm Tsubaki."

"My what?" She started laughing.

Tsubaki glowered more fiercely. "Well, the legend says you're supposed to have a fairy godmother, but we, uh, couldn't agree on who got to play that role." He glared at the other fairies. "So, we decided all six of us would share."

"Yeah," piped up Shun-o. "And since we obviously can't all be your godmother, we decided we'd be god_fairies_! Isn't that clever?"

"I think it's stupid myself," growled the dark-haired male, as he ducked a glancing blow from Shun-o.

"Anyway, the point is, we're here to help you get to the ball. To fulfill the wish you wrote on the slip of paper."

"Oh, my," said Orihime, awed and flabbergasted. "Well, I'm terribly grateful to all of you, but how can I get to the ball? I wasn't invited and have nothing to wear."

"You were invited," said Tsubaki gruffly. "The invitation was addressed to the Inoue family."

"As for the 'what to wear' problem, that's where we come in," said Shun-o brightly. "But let me introduce the others first. This is Hinagiku," he said, indicating a purple-clad creature with an eye patch and pointed ears. "And that's Baigon, Lily, and Ayame." Orihime looked where he pointed, and saw a bald, heavy-set male, a girl with pink hair and goggles, and a tiny, shy-looking girl in an oversized dress. All of them were no more than two inches tall, with long, slender wings fluttering so fast they were almost invisible in the dim light.

"I'm very pleased to meet you," said Orihime, sitting up in the bed and bowing from a seated position to all of them.

"So, let me tell you something about each of us—ow!" The dark-haired male had launched himself suddenly and rapidly at the speaker, kicking him soundly in the side of the head.

"This isn't the time for easygoing introductions, you damn top-knotted captain!" shouted Tsubaki.

Shun-o, rubbing his head, said, "Ow… that hurt, Tsubaki."

The dark-haired male glared. "It was supposed to! We need to get to work, and talk about making her an outfit for the ball!"

"Oh! Can you make me a gown?" asked Orihime, clasping her hands together, eyes shining.

The two fairies looked at each other. "Well… not exactly. We can't create something out of nothing. "

"It would violate the laws of physics, and even we can't do that," said Shun-o.

"Yeah," put in Tsubaki. "This isn't a manga, after all."

Orihime's face fell.

"But we can turn something _you_ make into a gown," explained Shun-o.

"But I don't have any fabric for a gown," said Orihime with eyes downcast. "They won't allow me to buy any."

"Not to worry!" cried the one with the eye patch. "We'll work with what you have."

"What would you say is your best talent?" asked Shun-o.

"My cooking and baking," said Orihime decisively. "Everyone usually likes my pastries and cakes." She frowned. "Although they only like the boring ones. No one eats my best work," she said, sighing.

"All right then," said Shun-o. "Here's what you do: you need to bake a cake shaped like a gown with all its accessories, including shoes. Can you do that?"

Orihime thought for a moment, her mouth dropping open as visions flashed through her head. After a minute she said, "Yes. Yes, of course I can! Let's see, I can use spun sugar for the fabric, and create transparent slippers out of gelatin and… "

Tsubaki cut her off. "Right, right, it's your job to work out the details. Can you also make a cake shaped like some form of transportation? You can't walk there. Doesn't look regal enough."

Orihime mused once more. "Um, what sort of transportation?"

"Well, let's see." Shun-o looked around the kitchen and spotted a pumpkin sitting on a high shelf. He pointed. "There. Can you make a cake shaped like that, in the form of a carriage and horses?"

The auburn-haired girl turned to follow his pointing finger and her eyes widened. "A carriage shaped like a pumpkin?" She put a finger to her chin and tilted her head, considering. "Why does that sound so familiar?"

"Uh," said Hinagiku gruffly, "it's best if you don't think too hard about these things. It's magic, after all."

"Anyway, the one important thing you must remember," put in the one called Lily, tossing her pink hair, "is that it is absolutely critical that none of your items get wet."

"Oh yes," agreed Shun-o. "As long as it doesn't rain, the magic will hold. We can turn sugar, butter, and flour into cloth and carriage. But our power has limits."

"As all good magic has," explained Hinagiku.

"Only in stories," muttered the brawny Baigon.

"Well, isn't this—"

"Shush!" said Tsubaki with vehemence.

Shun-o cleared his throat. "As I was saying," he said pointedly, scowling at his companions, "Our power has limits and needs to build upon a substrate matrix. Water will melt the sugar matrix that holds the spell together, and everything will turn into a soggy mess if it gets wet."

"Yeah," put in Hinagiku. "So make sure you're wearing something presentable underneath, just in case."

"She won't need to do that," argued the pink-haired girl, Lily. "The ball's on July 7th, and it's not forecast to rain that night."

Tsubaki put his hands on his hips. "Do you trust weather forecasters?"

"Well, no," Lily admitted.

"But can't you all control the weather with magic, make sure it doesn't rain?" asked Orihime.

They all turned to stare at her in unison. "Control the weather?" Ayame gasped.

"Humph," said Shun-o. "Not even the gods can do that completely." He shook his head. "No, you'll just have to make sure you stay out of the rain. Now, we have to go, so get to work on your baking! We'll see you the night of the ball."

And with that, they all winked out of existence, leaving Orihime alone in the dim garret, puzzled and amazed… and for the first time, a little bit hopeful.

XxXxXxX

The next few nights were long ones for Orihime as she secretly worked on the cakes for the spells. She had to stay up late after all her chores were completed, and cook while everyone else was asleep. But at last everything was done, just in time for the ball.

Orihime stood at the door in her rags, waving goodbye to her stepmother and stepsisters as they set out for the ball in their finery. The moment they were gone, she skipped back to the kitchen and opened the large cupboards where she had hidden her concoctions.

At once the fairies were swirling around her again. They spun around her faster and faster until she could no longer see anything but a blaze of light. Then the light blinked off, and Orihime was left, dazzled, in the dim kitchen. It was silent and dark and she felt a flash of disappointment. She didn't feel any different.

But then she moved and she felt the unaccustomed swish of heavy, soft skirts around her. She looked down at herself and gasped.

She was wearing a gown the likes of which she had never seen before. It was white and appeared to glisten and shine all on its own. The bodice was set with millions of tiny seed pearls and below her tiny waist a lacy full skirt belled out around her, swishing gently around her feet, which were now housed in the transparent slippers she had fashioned out of gelatin. Only now they shone like glass.

She lifted her head, a look of wonder on her face, and spoke to the six tiny motes swirling around her as tears of joy ran down her cheeks. "How can I ever thank you?"

"Ah, it was nothing," said Shun-o gruffly. "Just do us proud by having the time you deserve at the ball." He landed on her shoulder. "Now, as long as the magic lasts, no one will recognize your face. You can do whatever you want and don't need to worry about being punished."

"But remember," cautioned Lily, "don't get caught in the rain!"

She nodded, hardly hearing, as she rushed off to her pumpkin carriage.

XxXxXxX

There almost seemed to be a hush in the music as the strange woman entered the large, ornately decorated ballroom. On her entrance, there were curious whispers from the crowd, and jealous mutterings from other women. From across the room, Prince Ichigo looked up from where he was scowling, bored, as he made small talk with some of the court ladies and their guests.

His eyes were caught and held by the woman standing at the head of the stairs leading down into the ballroom. She had pale, almost translucent skin that seemed to glow from within, punctuated by dark grey eyes that reminded him of a summer storm. Her hair was thick and lush and shone like a flame halfway down her back, of an auburn the shade of the sunset after the summer storm had passed.

And he had never seen such a gown. Pure white and filigreed with filaments and lace twisted and swirled into intricate patterns, of a cloth so fine he could almost believe it was spun out of something other than fabric.

He didn't realize his feet had been carrying him directly to where she stood until he was only a few feet away. Then his training kicked in and he bowed over her hand.

"My lady, may I have this dance?"

"Wha— oh, of course, your highness," she stammered, flustered for a moment, those grey eyes meeting his with a sudden brash candor, so unlike the simpering court ladies, until she shook her head and lowered her lashes demurely as a proper lady should.

He almost wanted to curse. How could she hide those beautiful, honest eyes beneath lashes? Although, he thought, as they moved into the next dance, they were lovely lashes to hide behind, if you had to. They shimmered like beaten gold in the lamplight, long and lush as they lay over her pale cheeks.

The Prince smiled at her and his face felt strange as long unused muscles worked in his face, turning it from his accustomed scowl. "That is the most beautiful dress I have ever seen," he said as he led her in the dance. The dress glistened like spun sugar as it twirled around her while she bobbed and dipped gracefully in the dance.

She blushed. "Thank you, your highness," she said, lowering her eyes again.

"I've never seen anything like it," he continued. "Can you tell me how it was made?"

"Well," she hesitated, "you could say I spun it out of common household ingredients."

"What?" Ichigo said, laughing. "You actually made the dress?"

"Part of it," Orihime admitted honestly as they whirled around the ballroom.

They moved through the dances one after another, ignoring the whispers and mutters all around them as Ichigo danced only with Orihime for hour after hour. It seemed as if the two of them could only see each other as they talked, and danced, and talked some more… as the night got later and later.

Ichigo raised his eyebrows at her. "I've never met a court lady who made her own clothes."

"I'm not a court lady," Orihime retorted.

"Well, what are you then?" Ichigo teased.

"Actually, I'm a baker," Orihime said. "Or, I want to be a baker."

"What do you bake?"

"Cakes, mostly. Whenever I get the chance, I like to experiment with interesting flavors." The dance ended and Orihime stopped, breathing hard, and put a finger to her mouth as she gazed off into the distance. "Just last week, I made the most delicious cake out of sweet potatoes and pickles."

The expression on Ichigo's face became a bit strained. "Sweet potatoes… and pickles… in a _cake_?" he asked, trying to be polite.

"Yes," Orihime said, warming to her subject and waving her arms enthusiastically. "Then nobody else wanted to eat it, so I got all of it to myself!" Her eyes went misty with the memory of all that food. "And then there was the chocolate cake I flavored with cayenne pepper." Her eyes were still soft and dreamy. "It was so good."

Ichigo could not take his eyes off her. Suddenly he started laughing. "You're a baker and you make cakes like that?"

Orihime stopped dreaming about her cakes and looked up at him suddenly. She blushed, remembering with whom she was speaking. "Oh, most of the cakes I bake are rather ordinary, actually. People always say they like those."

Ichigo stared at her and a sudden look of recognition came over his face. "Now I remember you!" he said. "Let's see… it was during the invasion six years ago, wasn't it? In the market square. You were just a child then. One of those bastards was just about to swing his sword at you." His face darkened at the memory.

Orihime looked at him in shock. No one was supposed to recognize her. But then she remembered that the Prince would surely not know her name from that time so long ago.

He saw her expression of distress, misunderstood it, and was instantly contrite. "I'm sorry; now I've upset you with those scary memories." He scanned the ballroom briefly as though looking for someone. "Let me make it up to you." He grinned at her. "I'll tell you the truth… I hate events like this. I want to show you something special." He grasped her hand and began tugging her toward the stairs at the back of the room.

Orihime hesitated, looked around for a moment, and then nodded firmly. "All right," she said. She gathered up her skirts and followed him up the first long flight of steps.

"This is a story handed down in our family," Ichigo began, as they climbed flight after flight of stairs. He held her hand in his and felt how warm it was, and how it trembled ever so slightly, even though she kept her chin up as though wandering through a castle with a Prince was something she did every day. "Tonight, at the full moon, there is something special you can only see from the topmost tower." He led her out onto the top of the tower, into the cool night. The wind whipped her hair around her face and swirled the skirts of her dress around her.

He moved to the balustrade, pointed off into the far distance. "Can you see where the moon is shining on the river there?" Orihime followed his pointing arm, squinted. She tugged her hair out of her face as the wind blew more viciously. "There's a legend that when a member of our royal family has found their soul mate, that river will rise and flood—"

But Orihime cut him off with a gasp. A drop of water had fallen on her face. As she looked up at the sky in shock, she saw that half of it was covered by rapidly moving storm clouds. She saw a flash of lightning, and then heard the boom of thunder.

She stared at Ichigo in shock. She wanted nothing more than to continue talking to this man, her hero, and the man she had found surprisingly easy to talk to. But if it was going to rain… She looked down at her dress and thought of the skimpy rags she had underneath. Her finery would all disappear and she would have to face Prince Ichigo and the entire kingdom in the dirty rags of the Princess of Ashes.

No. She couldn't bear it. She looked at Ichigo in anguish. He was staring at her, puzzled. She firmed her resolve. Even if the rain would keep her away from the man— she suddenly realized it— the man she loved, and had always loved, with a love that seemed like it could fill not just one lifetime, but five—she had to go.

"I'm sorry," she cried, gathering up her skirts and turning to run down the stairs. "I have to go! It's been a lovely evening," she called back over her shoulder. "Thank you so much!" Then she shifted into high gear and fairly flew down the stairs. She would have to get home before the main part of the thunderstorm hit.

"Wait, wait," shouted Ichigo, as he started chasing her down the stairs. "You haven't even told me your name."

Orihime thought in agony, _I can't tell him the truth_. The image of the shy fairy hiding beneath the oversized dress came into her mind and she called out over her shoulder, "Ayame!"

Then she slipped into the crowded ballroom and was gone. Ichigo arrived panting not long after her, but he couldn't find her anywhere.

He rushed to the front gate of the castle, but in the dark night with pouring rain, he couldn't see anything. As though from very far away, he heard celebratory shouts from the crowd_: it's midnight, the seventh day of the seventh month!_ People were making toasts, and there was general merriment, but Ichigo felt only a devastating pang, almost as though his grief was somehow larger than his own life… S_he's gone, I've lost her_. He looked at the impenetrable curtain of rain and wondered why, the day he finally met the love of his life, she was torn away from him by the rain.

XxXxXxX

"She told me she was a baker, so we must get all the girls in the kingdom to bake something for me. I must find her." Ichigo paced the room once again as his chancellor Ishida shook his head and his father King Isshin frowned at him.

"But Sire," Ishida began, but Ichigo interrupted him.

"I don't care what you are saying about me marrying a 'suitable' woman. I don't care if I marry the poorest peasant in the kingdom." He scowled at Ishida and his father. "You both have been nattering on about me marrying and producing an heir. The only woman I've ever met who's even halfway interesting is Ayame." He narrowed his eyes at his father. "And she's clearly of noble birth, and beautiful besides," he added.

"But I've searched the records of the entire kingdom, Sire," Ishida said. "There are no women named 'Ayame' in the current generation— or the past two previous generations."

"I don't care," said Ichigo stubbornly. "She's out there and we have to find her."

Isshin sighed as he exchanged a wry look with Ishida. "He's a stubborn boy… but then so was I at his age." He grinned suddenly. "There were objections to my marrying Masaki, but I didn't listen to them either." He clapped his son on the back so heartily the younger man almost lost his balance. "Very well. I agree to this preposterous baking contest." His grin widened. "At the very least, there'll be lots of good stuff to eat in the kingdom…"

XxXxXxX

When Orihime heard the royal procession arrive at the door of her house on the day of the baking contest, she was both delighted and terrified. Her stepmother had insisted that Orihime bake cakes for Loly and Menoly. "But don't put any of your crazy ingredients in them! These have to be normal cakes!" She had outdone herself and had made two beautiful cakes with spun sugar fantasies on top.

Now the Prince and his attendants were gazing at the concoctions placed in positions of honor in the Inoue sitting room. "Such fine artistry," said the Prince. He looked more closely at the elaborate cakes. Ishida noticed that it was the first time that day he hadn't seemed bored.

"Sire, are you… interested in these cakes?"

"I recognize this filigree work…" Ichigo said quietly to Ishida. "But…" he murmured to his chancellor as he looked sidelong at Loly and Menoly, "neither of these two women is my Ayame."

Ishida raised his voice to the others in the room. "But isn't there a third daughter in the house?"

"Oh, only Orihime," said Loly with scorn. "She didn't go to the ball because she had to scrub the hearth," she said nastily. "So she couldn't be the one you're looking for."

"The proclamation required that every girl of marriageable age in the kingdom bake a cake," said Ishida, pushing up his glasses with one finger. "Therefore this Orihime must also bake one."

"Where is she?" asked Ichigo.

Orihime was hiding in the kitchen, embarrassed to appear in front of the Prince in her rags. But Lord Ishida walked to the back of the house, entered the kitchen, and said to the girl huddled on the hearth, "Your presence is requested in the sitting room."

She blushed. "Sir, I can't greet the Prince in these," she said, gesturing at her shabby clothes. But Lord Ishida took her hand. "Come," he said kindly. "The Prince does not stand on ceremony regarding clothing. Did you bake a cake?" he asked, looking around the spotless, gleaming kitchen.

Orihime nodded shyly. She opened up a cupboard and Ishida was hard-pressed not to suck in his breath. The cake was astonishingly exquisite and even more detailed than the ones purportedly made by Loly and Menoly: a miniature model of the castle rendered in loving detail. Ishida's eyes went to the pinnacle of the cake. Two tiny figures with bright orange hair were standing at the very top of the tallest tower.

"Truly a work of art," he breathed, gently lifting the cake. "Come, we shall present it to the Prince."

With Ishida leading, they walked back into the sitting room where everyone was gathered. There was a collective intake of breath at the magnificent spun-sugar cake. Ishida set it down on a table in front of the Prince, paused a moment, and then reverently picked up the silver cake server and cut a thin slice of the elegant cake. He presented it to the Prince, who picked up his fork and slowly brought a piece to his mouth.

He chewed, carefully. Everyone's eyes were on him as he cast his eyes up to the ceiling, considering its flavor. Was he going to smile? Say it was delicious?

But instead, a puzzled look came over his face as he chewed. He glanced at Orihime, standing in the shadows near the kitchen door with her hands nervously clasped together.

"You made this cake yourself?" he asked her.

She nodded, a worried look spreading over her face. "Doesn't it taste good?" she asked.

"Whatever did you put in it?" he said, a look of bafflement on his face. "I've never tasted a cake like this? It's got… something odd in it."

Loly jumped in front of him, shooting a scowl at Orihime where the Prince couldn't see. "Oh, don't worry about Orihime. She has terrible taste in food. She's always mixing the weirdest ingredients together." She pushed the plate with Orihime's cake aside, and shoved her cake in front of the Prince again. "Why don't you have more of my cake, your highness," she said, tilting her head on one side and batting her heavily-made up eyelashes at the handsome, scowling man.

"No," he said, looking around Loly at Orihime. "Tell me what you put in it," he commanded.

Orihime looked down and pleated her skirt. "Avocado paste," she said in a whisper. "I— I thought it would improve the flavor, make it richer," she mumbled, staring at the floor.

Ishida made a face and there was a murmur from the assorted courtiers. "Avocado paste in a cake?" Somebody snorted with laughter and then covered their mouth, embarrassed. Prince Ichigo raised his head and his brown eyes went wide with shock and horror, gazing straight at the mortified girl.

Loly screeched, "You idiot, you've poisoned the Prince!" She angrily whispered to Menoly, "That bitch just lost us our chance to marry royalty!"

Menoly put her hands on her hips and glared at Orihime as well. "Well, just wait till they all leave," she murmured to Loly. "We'll get even with her."

The black-haired girl's eyes lit up. "Yeah," she whispered back, gleefully. "We'll make her sorry she was ever born!"

Then the Prince started laughing. It began with a small chuckle in the back of his throat, but then he threw his head back and roared. "Avocado paste— in a cake?" He stood up and walked over to take Orihime's hand. "There's only one girl I know who would put together such a preposterous recipe." He paused, and looked into her eyes. "Ayame?"

She flushed a deep red and her eyes darted everywhere but his face. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I didn't mean to hide from you."

"It doesn't matter," he said, feeling a tremendous swell of gladness surge inside his chest. Still holding her hand, he pivoted to face Ishida and his counselors. "This is the woman I will marry," he proclaimed, pretending not to notice the shocked gasps from Loly and Menoly and the courtiers' open mouths. Then he caught himself, blushed, and looked down at Orihime. "Uh, with your permission, of course, my lady."

She grinned up at him and then a mischievous spark lit her eye. "On one condition, your highness." She turned and handed the plate with the half-eaten slice back to him. "Eat my cake." Her grin spread from ear to ear.

He looked at the cake, and for a moment his smile faltered. Then his eyes met Orihime's and his expression became determined, fire burning in his irises. "Getsuga Tenshou," he murmured under his breath. Orihime supposed it was an oath that had some private meaning to the royal family. He picked up the fork and began eating. He looked over at her, still chewing, and licked his lips, then grinned. "Delicious," he proclaimed. Then he set the fork on top of the empty plate and swept her into his arms.

"All right then," she laughed. "Proposal accepted."

Above them, nobody saw six tiny motes of light dancing in jubilation.

_And they lived happily ever after, not just for one lifetime, but for five lifetimes._

~The End~

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Trying a somewhat different style with this one. Please let me know if you liked it. Thanks. :)

And hey! **TheSnowLady** suggested that I could turn this into a Bleach fairy tale series. Any interest in that? And which fairy tales would you like me to retell?


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